Shortly before our son turned 17, his girlfriend (Aaron's mother) ran away from her foster home. Our son, not want her on the streets alone, ran away from home too in order to be with her. The pair sofa surfed at the homes of various friends until caught and returned home - only to run again and again. During that time we worried quite a bit; but, we also got a taste of life with an empty nest. This period of time lasted until after Aaron's birth and once we had the young soon-to-be parents set up in their small efficiency apartment we rather enjoyed our new found freedom. We had just purchased our first home in the country after 20 years of apartment living in the city. My days were spent stress free by the pool with my laptop leisurely working on my college assignments. My dear husband and I suddenly had more alone time than we knew what to do with and indulged in regular dinners out and quiet evenings in. We ran away for weekends and answered to no one about our whereabouts; we were happier and freer than we'd been in a long time! Then one day it came to a screeching halt when the social worker called and asked us is we were willing to take our grandson, Aaron.When Aaron first came to live with us permanently he was colicky and teething terribly. I often joked (and still do) that either Aaron is an especially challenging child or I was blessed with two extremely good babies as a mother. My sons slept through the night within weeks of birth, Aaron at 27 months old, only began sleeping through the night 2 months ago. When my sons teethed their drool was the only indication; they never were fussy, feverish or rashy....Aaron was miserable teething and exhibited all of the above. My sons only rarely threw tantrums, even amid the "terrible twos", while Aaron has complete meltdowns that cause the roof rafters to shake! I often say to myself " God laughed at me when I claimed to be a parent and decided to show me what REAL parenting was all about....and I've been on the verge of screaming uncle more than a few times. I also worry with these earth quaking size tantrums, that Aaron may have inherited his mother's bi-polar disorder. But, I am often able to redirect the tantrums and distract him from his angry melt downs, so that gives me hope that he is simply I highly emotional child.

As we adjusted to life caring for a baby again after 20 plus years, I was also attempting to finish my bachelors degree with a year and a half of classes remaining. My husband, a building contractor by trade, had been working diligently on renovating our new home. We learned quickly that Aaron had other plans for us and we had to conform to his needs. He was absolutely terrified of power tools and all indoor renovations had to cease, which has left our home in a construction zone state with bare drywall and partially torn out walls. He has improved in the last few months and actually thinks the cordless drill is rather neat, but heaven forbid we break out a saw! I also discovered there was no way I was going to get my school work done during the day. We reconfigured our day so that I would stay awake until 2 or 3 in the morning studying, then sleep until the baby woke up, nap or study while the baby napped and then sleep when my husband got home from work until he and the baby went to bed. We rarely spent any time together for the first year and I often would consider postponing finishing school when I was in a state of physical and emotional exhaustion, but we stuck it out and I'm proud to say I obtained my Bachelor of Science in Criminal Justice in May of this year.

Finishing my schooling has left us with a new dilemma. I am anxious to return to work in my new field and yet, my husband and I believed firmly that we did not want babysitters and daycares raising our children (I was a stay at home mom until our boys began kindergarten). We also have that desire with raising Aaron, which means I am likely going to have to work night shifts or opt for daycare (neither of which is appealing). As I look around our "forever" home and see how ugly it looks unfinished, as I contemplate having to put my career path on hold, as I decline party invitations and fret over my mother who recently had heart surgery without me by her side, I harbor resentment. I resent Aaron's parents for making me choose between my grandson and my personal freedom. I resent the plans they are making for their lives and I resent their intrusion into ours. I cringe when the phone rings and the caller ID says it's them, and on bad days I won't answer it at all out of fear that I will say some not very nice things. I pride myself on being a reasonable and fair person, after all, no one forced us to take our grandson and raise him. However, the alternative would have been far more painful than our worst days of raising Aaron. We couldn't even begin to imagine how awful it would be to lose our first grandson to outside adoption. That doesn't stop us from mourning the loss of our normal little lives. I would not trade that adorable, little beastie for even a moment of that quiet year of empty nest. Fortunately, he offers up far more good days than he does the bad ones and his love is worth every single tantrum we have to endure.